William LaMontagne Jr.

@seriouswill

@seriouswill

@seriouswill

Will could hear the chaos outside from within his office. It wasn’t hard to hear, really, because the glass between his office and the PD floor was paper thin. The detective stood from his desk and made his way to the door, opening it and he peaked out. His whole department were crowding around the tv, engrossed in the news reel that had obviously just started. Then the phones started to continuously, one after the other. Will turned to the detective who had just gotten off the phone.

“What’s goin’ on?” He asked, and even after living in Washington D.C. for several years, his voice still had that baritone southern charm to it. When the other officer started to speak, Will grabbed his phone and his coat from his office straight away. He usually didn’t go out on calls like this, but today, needs must. A school shooting nearby, with up to thirty dead and some children still accounted for, Will knew they needed all hands on deck. Fear of the unknown terrified Will, but it also gave him a boost of adrenaline, like his own personal brand of heroin. His mind wondered to his son who was at school after complaining he had a sore stomach this morning, but then he knew he had to be professional.

He pulled up to the school almost moments later, watching the scene unfold in front of him. His officers scattering themselves across the school grounds, leading teachers and children to safety. Others, talking to parents and members of the public. It felt like time was frozen, and in the immediate moments after he’d arrived, they heard more gunshots. It was like the breaking of glass and the crying of children all wrapped into one.

He’d called his wife almost three times since he got here, but it seemed like the phone lines were down, which didn’t help at all. He looked around for a moment, realising that calling her was no use, because she was here already. He watched as the SUVs rolled up and he ran towards them.

Had she sent him to his death, for the sake of not taking a sick day?

“Nothin’, they said on the radio that there’s at least 30 dead, if not more and a lot of the kids are still unaccounted for. Two shooters, at least.” He was talking quickly as if they didn’t have a moment to lose and really, they didn’t. “He didn’t...he hasn’t come out yet....”

The words hit her like a wall of bricks and her knees went weak beneath her, leaving her panting and clutching on to Will in a desperate fight to regain her footing.

Thirty deaths already, no word from Henry, and gunshots were still going off from within the building.

Will was never usually one for raising his voice, but as he pulled his wife backwards, all while pulling the gun from her grasp, he couldn’t help it. “NO!” He said again, as he managed to finally retired the gun from her, giving it to Hotch who was walking past.

“Listen to me! Listen to me, Jennifer!” He said, his arms wrapping around her tightly so he could make sure she didn’t try to run in the direction of the building. “They need to clear the building, but you and I both know...we can’t go inside.” He didn’t want to follow protocol, especially when their son was inside with gunmen shooting bullets everywhere, but he knew at least one of them had to follow it.

His words went in one ear and out the other; she knew that. God, she knew the rules. It didn’t matter, Henry was in there. When his arms moved away from her, she made a run for it but didn’t get far. Derek had her by the waist, and turned her back to Will. “If you can’t behave, you can’t be here.”

They turned to follow the officer, on legs that she could barely feel moving, and they were heading to a field of corpses. Covered in bags, of course, but row after row of body bags were sprinkled across the grass field. Most of them were tiny, and her heart broke for the parents.

“Detective Lamontagne, Agent Jareau... I’m very sorry, but we need you to identify your son.” The statement was enough to make her lip start to tremble, but she refused to believe it. It wasn’t until the zipper was pulled back and she saw Henry; her sweet, innocent baby, looking peaceful but distant, that she believed it. His eyes were closed, his skin pale and taut, his shirt covered in blood - but it was Henry.

Over by the cars, the team had just been notified that JJ and Will had just identified Henry’s body, and they too were as shocked as they were.

It took time and energy to stop screaming into the abyss, and when she heard Will’s pet name she was brought back to reality slowly.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, baby. Mommy’s so sorry.” She didn’t know how she’d possibly pick up Michael, how she’d explain that his big brother was gone, how she’d continue to be a mother to their younger son when Henry was gone.

The last time he’d felt such a loss like this was when his father died in the storm and before that, the death of his mother. Henry being dead was a new, different kind of pain. Anger and heartbreak all wrapped into one, as he thought of his wife a few feet away, and his young son who was about to find out his older brother and best friend was dead.

Will could hear the chaos outside from within his office. It wasn’t hard to hear, really, because the glass between his office and the PD floor was paper thin. The detective stood from his desk and made his way to the door, opening it and he peaked out. His whole department were crowding around the tv, engrossed in the news reel that had obviously just started. Then the phones started to continuously, one after the other. Will turned to the detective who had just gotten off the phone.

“What’s goin’ on?” He asked, and even after living in Washington D.C. for several years, his voice still had that baritone southern charm to it. When the other officer started to speak, Will grabbed his phone and his coat from his office straight away. He usually didn’t go out on calls like this, but today, needs must. A school shooting nearby, with up to thirty dead and some children still accounted for, Will knew they needed all hands on deck. Fear of the unknown terrified Will, but it also gave him a boost of adrenaline, like his own personal brand of heroin. His mind wondered to his son who was at school after complaining he had a sore stomach this morning, but then he knew he had to be professional.

He pulled up to the school almost moments later, watching the scene unfold in front of him. His officers scattering themselves across the school grounds, leading teachers and children to safety. Others, talking to parents and members of the public. It felt like time was frozen, and in the immediate moments after he’d arrived, they heard more gunshots. It was like the breaking of glass and the crying of children all wrapped into one.

He’d called his wife almost three times since he got here, but it seemed like the phone lines were down, which didn’t help at all. He looked around for a moment, realising that calling her was no use, because she was here already. He watched as the SUVs rolled up and he ran towards them.

Had she sent him to his death, for the sake of not taking a sick day?

“Nothin’, they said on the radio that there’s at least 30 dead, if not more and a lot of the kids are still unaccounted for. Two shooters, at least.” He was talking quickly as if they didn’t have a moment to lose and really, they didn’t. “He didn’t...he hasn’t come out yet....”

The words hit her like a wall of bricks and her knees went weak beneath her, leaving her panting and clutching on to Will in a desperate fight to regain her footing.

Thirty deaths already, no word from Henry, and gunshots were still going off from within the building.

Will was never usually one for raising his voice, but as he pulled his wife backwards, all while pulling the gun from her grasp, he couldn’t help it. “NO!” He said again, as he managed to finally retired the gun from her, giving it to Hotch who was walking past.

“Listen to me! Listen to me, Jennifer!” He said, his arms wrapping around her tightly so he could make sure she didn’t try to run in the direction of the building. “They need to clear the building, but you and I both know...we can’t go inside.” He didn’t want to follow protocol, especially when their son was inside with gunmen shooting bullets everywhere, but he knew at least one of them had to follow it.

His words went in one ear and out the other; she knew that. God, she knew the rules. It didn’t matter, Henry was in there. When his arms moved away from her, she made a run for it but didn’t get far. Derek had her by the waist, and turned her back to Will. “If you can’t behave, you can’t be here.”

They turned to follow the officer, on legs that she could barely feel moving, and they were heading to a field of corpses. Covered in bags, of course, but row after row of body bags were sprinkled across the grass field. Most of them were tiny, and her heart broke for the parents.

“Detective Lamontagne, Agent Jareau... I’m very sorry, but we need you to identify your son.” The statement was enough to make her lip start to tremble, but she refused to believe it. It wasn’t until the zipper was pulled back and she saw Henry; her sweet, innocent baby, looking peaceful but distant, that she believed it. His eyes were closed, his skin pale and taut, his shirt covered in blood - but it was Henry.

Over by the cars, the team had just been notified that JJ and Will had just identified Henry’s body, and they too were as shocked as they were.

It took time and energy to stop screaming into the abyss, and when she heard Will’s pet name she was brought back to reality slowly.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, baby. Mommy’s so sorry.” She didn’t know how she’d possibly pick up Michael, how she’d explain that his big brother was gone, how she’d continue to be a mother to their younger son when Henry was gone.

The last time he’d felt such a loss like this was when his father died in the storm and before that, the death of his mother. Henry being dead was a new, different kind of pain. Anger and heartbreak all wrapped into one, as he thought of his wife a few feet away, and his young son who was about to find out his older brother and best friend was dead.

Will could hear the chaos outside from within his office. It wasn’t hard to hear, really, because the glass between his office and the PD floor was paper thin. The detective stood from his desk and made his way to the door, opening it and he peaked out. His whole department were crowding around the tv, engrossed in the news reel that had obviously just started. Then the phones started to continuously, one after the other. Will turned to the detective who had just gotten off the phone.

“What’s goin’ on?” He asked, and even after living in Washington D.C. for several years, his voice still had that baritone southern charm to it. When the other officer started to speak, Will grabbed his phone and his coat from his office straight away. He usually didn’t go out on calls like this, but today, needs must. A school shooting nearby, with up to thirty dead and some children still accounted for, Will knew they needed all hands on deck. Fear of the unknown terrified Will, but it also gave him a boost of adrenaline, like his own personal brand of heroin. His mind wondered to his son who was at school after complaining he had a sore stomach this morning, but then he knew he had to be professional.

He pulled up to the school almost moments later, watching the scene unfold in front of him. His officers scattering themselves across the school grounds, leading teachers and children to safety. Others, talking to parents and members of the public. It felt like time was frozen, and in the immediate moments after he’d arrived, they heard more gunshots. It was like the breaking of glass and the crying of children all wrapped into one.

He’d called his wife almost three times since he got here, but it seemed like the phone lines were down, which didn’t help at all. He looked around for a moment, realising that calling her was no use, because she was here already. He watched as the SUVs rolled up and he ran towards them.

Had she sent him to his death, for the sake of not taking a sick day?

“Nothin’, they said on the radio that there’s at least 30 dead, if not more and a lot of the kids are still unaccounted for. Two shooters, at least.” He was talking quickly as if they didn’t have a moment to lose and really, they didn’t. “He didn’t...he hasn’t come out yet....”

The words hit her like a wall of bricks and her knees went weak beneath her, leaving her panting and clutching on to Will in a desperate fight to regain her footing.

Thirty deaths already, no word from Henry, and gunshots were still going off from within the building.

Will was never usually one for raising his voice, but as he pulled his wife backwards, all while pulling the gun from her grasp, he couldn’t help it. “NO!” He said again, as he managed to finally retired the gun from her, giving it to Hotch who was walking past.

“Listen to me! Listen to me, Jennifer!” He said, his arms wrapping around her tightly so he could make sure she didn’t try to run in the direction of the building. “They need to clear the building, but you and I both know...we can’t go inside.” He didn’t want to follow protocol, especially when their son was inside with gunmen shooting bullets everywhere, but he knew at least one of them had to follow it.

His words went in one ear and out the other; she knew that. God, she knew the rules. It didn’t matter, Henry was in there. When his arms moved away from her, she made a run for it but didn’t get far. Derek had her by the waist, and turned her back to Will. “If you can’t behave, you can’t be here.”

They turned to follow the officer, on legs that she could barely feel moving, and they were heading to a field of corpses. Covered in bags, of course, but row after row of body bags were sprinkled across the grass field. Most of them were tiny, and her heart broke for the parents.

“Detective Lamontagne, Agent Jareau... I’m very sorry, but we need you to identify your son.” The statement was enough to make her lip start to tremble, but she refused to believe it. It wasn’t until the zipper was pulled back and she saw Henry; her sweet, innocent baby, looking peaceful but distant, that she believed it. His eyes were closed, his skin pale and taut, his shirt covered in blood - but it was Henry.

Over by the cars, the team had just been notified that JJ and Will had just identified Henry’s body, and they too were as shocked as they were.

It took time and energy to stop screaming into the abyss, and when she heard Will’s pet name she was brought back to reality slowly.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, baby. Mommy’s so sorry.” She didn’t know how she’d possibly pick up Michael, how she’d explain that his big brother was gone, how she’d continue to be a mother to their younger son when Henry was gone.

The last time he’d felt such a loss like this was when his father died in the storm and before that, the death of his mother. Henry being dead was a new, different kind of pain. Anger and heartbreak all wrapped into one, as he thought of his wife a few feet away, and his young son who was about to find out his older brother and best friend was dead.

Will could hear the chaos outside from within his office. It wasn’t hard to hear, really, because the glass between his office and the PD floor was paper thin. The detective stood from his desk and made his way to the door, opening it and he peaked out. His whole department were crowding around the tv, engrossed in the news reel that had obviously just started. Then the phones started to continuously, one after the other. Will turned to the detective who had just gotten off the phone.

“What’s goin’ on?” He asked, and even after living in Washington D.C. for several years, his voice still had that baritone southern charm to it. When the other officer started to speak, Will grabbed his phone and his coat from his office straight away. He usually didn’t go out on calls like this, but today, needs must. A school shooting nearby, with up to thirty dead and some children still accounted for, Will knew they needed all hands on deck. Fear of the unknown terrified Will, but it also gave him a boost of adrenaline, like his own personal brand of heroin. His mind wondered to his son who was at school after complaining he had a sore stomach this morning, but then he knew he had to be professional.

He pulled up to the school almost moments later, watching the scene unfold in front of him. His officers scattering themselves across the school grounds, leading teachers and children to safety. Others, talking to parents and members of the public. It felt like time was frozen, and in the immediate moments after he’d arrived, they heard more gunshots. It was like the breaking of glass and the crying of children all wrapped into one.

He’d called his wife almost three times since he got here, but it seemed like the phone lines were down, which didn’t help at all. He looked around for a moment, realising that calling her was no use, because she was here already. He watched as the SUVs rolled up and he ran towards them.

Had she sent him to his death, for the sake of not taking a sick day?

“Nothin’, they said on the radio that there’s at least 30 dead, if not more and a lot of the kids are still unaccounted for. Two shooters, at least.” He was talking quickly as if they didn’t have a moment to lose and really, they didn’t. “He didn’t...he hasn’t come out yet....”

The words hit her like a wall of bricks and her knees went weak beneath her, leaving her panting and clutching on to Will in a desperate fight to regain her footing.

Thirty deaths already, no word from Henry, and gunshots were still going off from within the building.

Will was never usually one for raising his voice, but as he pulled his wife backwards, all while pulling the gun from her grasp, he couldn’t help it. “NO!” He said again, as he managed to finally retired the gun from her, giving it to Hotch who was walking past.

“Listen to me! Listen to me, Jennifer!” He said, his arms wrapping around her tightly so he could make sure she didn’t try to run in the direction of the building. “They need to clear the building, but you and I both know...we can’t go inside.” He didn’t want to follow protocol, especially when their son was inside with gunmen shooting bullets everywhere, but he knew at least one of them had to follow it.

His words went in one ear and out the other; she knew that. God, she knew the rules. It didn’t matter, Henry was in there. When his arms moved away from her, she made a run for it but didn’t get far. Derek had her by the waist, and turned her back to Will. “If you can’t behave, you can’t be here.”

They turned to follow the officer, on legs that she could barely feel moving, and they were heading to a field of corpses. Covered in bags, of course, but row after row of body bags were sprinkled across the grass field. Most of them were tiny, and her heart broke for the parents.

“Detective Lamontagne, Agent Jareau... I’m very sorry, but we need you to identify your son.” The statement was enough to make her lip start to tremble, but she refused to believe it. It wasn’t until the zipper was pulled back and she saw Henry; her sweet, innocent baby, looking peaceful but distant, that she believed it. His eyes were closed, his skin pale and taut, his shirt covered in blood - but it was Henry.

Over by the cars, the team had just been notified that JJ and Will had just identified Henry’s body, and they too were as shocked as they were.

It took time and energy to stop screaming into the abyss, and when she heard Will’s pet name she was brought back to reality slowly.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, baby. Mommy’s so sorry.” She didn’t know how she’d possibly pick up Michael, how she’d explain that his big brother was gone, how she’d continue to be a mother to their younger son when Henry was gone.

The last time he’d felt such a loss like this was when his father died in the storm and before that, the death of his mother. Henry being dead was a new, different kind of pain. Anger and heartbreak all wrapped into one, as he thought of his wife a few feet away, and his young son who was about to find out his older brother and best friend was dead.

Will could hear the chaos outside from within his office. It wasn’t hard to hear, really, because the glass between his office and the PD floor was paper thin. The detective stood from his desk and made his way to the door, opening it and he peaked out. His whole department were crowding around the tv, engrossed in the news reel that had obviously just started. Then the phones started to continuously, one after the other. Will turned to the detective who had just gotten off the phone.

“What’s goin’ on?” He asked, and even after living in Washington D.C. for several years, his voice still had that baritone southern charm to it. When the other officer started to speak, Will grabbed his phone and his coat from his office straight away. He usually didn’t go out on calls like this, but today, needs must. A school shooting nearby, with up to thirty dead and some children still accounted for, Will knew they needed all hands on deck. Fear of the unknown terrified Will, but it also gave him a boost of adrenaline, like his own personal brand of heroin. His mind wondered to his son who was at school after complaining he had a sore stomach this morning, but then he knew he had to be professional.

He pulled up to the school almost moments later, watching the scene unfold in front of him. His officers scattering themselves across the school grounds, leading teachers and children to safety. Others, talking to parents and members of the public. It felt like time was frozen, and in the immediate moments after he’d arrived, they heard more gunshots. It was like the breaking of glass and the crying of children all wrapped into one.

He’d called his wife almost three times since he got here, but it seemed like the phone lines were down, which didn’t help at all. He looked around for a moment, realising that calling her was no use, because she was here already. He watched as the SUVs rolled up and he ran towards them.

Had she sent him to his death, for the sake of not taking a sick day?

“Nothin’, they said on the radio that there’s at least 30 dead, if not more and a lot of the kids are still unaccounted for. Two shooters, at least.” He was talking quickly as if they didn’t have a moment to lose and really, they didn’t. “He didn’t...he hasn’t come out yet....”

The words hit her like a wall of bricks and her knees went weak beneath her, leaving her panting and clutching on to Will in a desperate fight to regain her footing.

Thirty deaths already, no word from Henry, and gunshots were still going off from within the building.

Will was never usually one for raising his voice, but as he pulled his wife backwards, all while pulling the gun from her grasp, he couldn’t help it. “NO!” He said again, as he managed to finally retired the gun from her, giving it to Hotch who was walking past.

“Listen to me! Listen to me, Jennifer!” He said, his arms wrapping around her tightly so he could make sure she didn’t try to run in the direction of the building. “They need to clear the building, but you and I both know...we can’t go inside.” He didn’t want to follow protocol, especially when their son was inside with gunmen shooting bullets everywhere, but he knew at least one of them had to follow it.

His words went in one ear and out the other; she knew that. God, she knew the rules. It didn’t matter, Henry was in there. When his arms moved away from her, she made a run for it but didn’t get far. Derek had her by the waist, and turned her back to Will. “If you can’t behave, you can’t be here.”

They turned to follow the officer, on legs that she could barely feel moving, and they were heading to a field of corpses. Covered in bags, of course, but row after row of body bags were sprinkled across the grass field. Most of them were tiny, and her heart broke for the parents.

“Detective Lamontagne, Agent Jareau... I’m very sorry, but we need you to identify your son.” The statement was enough to make her lip start to tremble, but she refused to believe it. It wasn’t until the zipper was pulled back and she saw Henry; her sweet, innocent baby, looking peaceful but distant, that she believed it. His eyes were closed, his skin pale and taut, his shirt covered in blood - but it was Henry.

Over by the cars, the team had just been notified that JJ and Will had just identified Henry’s body, and they too were as shocked as they were.

It took time and energy to stop screaming into the abyss, and when she heard Will’s pet name she was brought back to reality slowly.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, baby. Mommy’s so sorry.” She didn’t know how she’d possibly pick up Michael, how she’d explain that his big brother was gone, how she’d continue to be a mother to their younger son when Henry was gone.

The last time he’d felt such a loss like this was when his father died in the storm and before that, the death of his mother. Henry being dead was a new, different kind of pain. Anger and heartbreak all wrapped into one, as he thought of his wife a few feet away, and his young son who was about to find out his older brother and best friend was dead.

Will could hear the chaos outside from within his office. It wasn’t hard to hear, really, because the glass between his office and the PD floor was paper thin. The detective stood from his desk and made his way to the door, opening it and he peaked out. His whole department were crowding around the tv, engrossed in the news reel that had obviously just started. Then the phones started to continuously, one after the other. Will turned to the detective who had just gotten off the phone.

“What’s goin’ on?” He asked, and even after living in Washington D.C. for several years, his voice still had that baritone southern charm to it. When the other officer started to speak, Will grabbed his phone and his coat from his office straight away. He usually didn’t go out on calls like this, but today, needs must. A school shooting nearby, with up to thirty dead and some children still accounted for, Will knew they needed all hands on deck. Fear of the unknown terrified Will, but it also gave him a boost of adrenaline, like his own personal brand of heroin. His mind wondered to his son who was at school after complaining he had a sore stomach this morning, but then he knew he had to be professional.

He pulled up to the school almost moments later, watching the scene unfold in front of him. His officers scattering themselves across the school grounds, leading teachers and children to safety. Others, talking to parents and members of the public. It felt like time was frozen, and in the immediate moments after he’d arrived, they heard more gunshots. It was like the breaking of glass and the crying of children all wrapped into one.

He’d called his wife almost three times since he got here, but it seemed like the phone lines were down, which didn’t help at all. He looked around for a moment, realising that calling her was no use, because she was here already. He watched as the SUVs rolled up and he ran towards them.

Had she sent him to his death, for the sake of not taking a sick day?

“Nothin’, they said on the radio that there’s at least 30 dead, if not more and a lot of the kids are still unaccounted for. Two shooters, at least.” He was talking quickly as if they didn’t have a moment to lose and really, they didn’t. “He didn’t...he hasn’t come out yet....”

The words hit her like a wall of bricks and her knees went weak beneath her, leaving her panting and clutching on to Will in a desperate fight to regain her footing.

Thirty deaths already, no word from Henry, and gunshots were still going off from within the building.

Will was never usually one for raising his voice, but as he pulled his wife backwards, all while pulling the gun from her grasp, he couldn’t help it. “NO!” He said again, as he managed to finally retired the gun from her, giving it to Hotch who was walking past.

“Listen to me! Listen to me, Jennifer!” He said, his arms wrapping around her tightly so he could make sure she didn’t try to run in the direction of the building. “They need to clear the building, but you and I both know...we can’t go inside.” He didn’t want to follow protocol, especially when their son was inside with gunmen shooting bullets everywhere, but he knew at least one of them had to follow it.

His words went in one ear and out the other; she knew that. God, she knew the rules. It didn’t matter, Henry was in there. When his arms moved away from her, she made a run for it but didn’t get far. Derek had her by the waist, and turned her back to Will. “If you can’t behave, you can’t be here.”

They turned to follow the officer, on legs that she could barely feel moving, and they were heading to a field of corpses. Covered in bags, of course, but row after row of body bags were sprinkled across the grass field. Most of them were tiny, and her heart broke for the parents.

“Detective Lamontagne, Agent Jareau... I’m very sorry, but we need you to identify your son.” The statement was enough to make her lip start to tremble, but she refused to believe it. It wasn’t until the zipper was pulled back and she saw Henry; her sweet, innocent baby, looking peaceful but distant, that she believed it. His eyes were closed, his skin pale and taut, his shirt covered in blood - but it was Henry.

Over by the cars, the team had just been notified that JJ and Will had just identified Henry’s body, and they too were as shocked as they were.

Will could hear the chaos outside from within his office. It wasn’t hard to hear, really, because the glass between his office and the PD floor was paper thin. The detective stood from his desk and made his way to the door, opening it and he peaked out. His whole department were crowding around the tv, engrossed in the news reel that had obviously just started. Then the phones started to continuously, one after the other. Will turned to the detective who had just gotten off the phone.

“What’s goin’ on?” He asked, and even after living in Washington D.C. for several years, his voice still had that baritone southern charm to it. When the other officer started to speak, Will grabbed his phone and his coat from his office straight away. He usually didn’t go out on calls like this, but today, needs must. A school shooting nearby, with up to thirty dead and some children still accounted for, Will knew they needed all hands on deck. Fear of the unknown terrified Will, but it also gave him a boost of adrenaline, like his own personal brand of heroin. His mind wondered to his son who was at school after complaining he had a sore stomach this morning, but then he knew he had to be professional.

He pulled up to the school almost moments later, watching the scene unfold in front of him. His officers scattering themselves across the school grounds, leading teachers and children to safety. Others, talking to parents and members of the public. It felt like time was frozen, and in the immediate moments after he’d arrived, they heard more gunshots. It was like the breaking of glass and the crying of children all wrapped into one.

He’d called his wife almost three times since he got here, but it seemed like the phone lines were down, which didn’t help at all. He looked around for a moment, realising that calling her was no use, because she was here already. He watched as the SUVs rolled up and he ran towards them.

Had she sent him to his death, for the sake of not taking a sick day?

“Nothin’, they said on the radio that there’s at least 30 dead, if not more and a lot of the kids are still unaccounted for. Two shooters, at least.” He was talking quickly as if they didn’t have a moment to lose and really, they didn’t. “He didn’t...he hasn’t come out yet....”

The words hit her like a wall of bricks and her knees went weak beneath her, leaving her panting and clutching on to Will in a desperate fight to regain her footing.

Thirty deaths already, no word from Henry, and gunshots were still going off from within the building.

Will was never usually one for raising his voice, but as he pulled his wife backwards, all while pulling the gun from her grasp, he couldn’t help it. “NO!” He said again, as he managed to finally retired the gun from her, giving it to Hotch who was walking past.

“Listen to me! Listen to me, Jennifer!” He said, his arms wrapping around her tightly so he could make sure she didn’t try to run in the direction of the building. “They need to clear the building, but you and I both know...we can’t go inside.” He didn’t want to follow protocol, especially when their son was inside with gunmen shooting bullets everywhere, but he knew at least one of them had to follow it.

His words went in one ear and out the other; she knew that. God, she knew the rules. It didn’t matter, Henry was in there. When his arms moved away from her, she made a run for it but didn’t get far. Derek had her by the waist, and turned her back to Will. “If you can’t behave, you can’t be here.”

Will could hear the chaos outside from within his office. It wasn’t hard to hear, really, because the glass between his office and the PD floor was paper thin. The detective stood from his desk and made his way to the door, opening it and he peaked out. His whole department were crowding around the tv, engrossed in the news reel that had obviously just started. Then the phones started to continuously, one after the other. Will turned to the detective who had just gotten off the phone.

“What’s goin’ on?” He asked, and even after living in Washington D.C. for several years, his voice still had that baritone southern charm to it. When the other officer started to speak, Will grabbed his phone and his coat from his office straight away. He usually didn’t go out on calls like this, but today, needs must. A school shooting nearby, with up to thirty dead and some children still accounted for, Will knew they needed all hands on deck. Fear of the unknown terrified Will, but it also gave him a boost of adrenaline, like his own personal brand of heroin. His mind wondered to his son who was at school after complaining he had a sore stomach this morning, but then he knew he had to be professional.

He pulled up to the school almost moments later, watching the scene unfold in front of him. His officers scattering themselves across the school grounds, leading teachers and children to safety. Others, talking to parents and members of the public. It felt like time was frozen, and in the immediate moments after he’d arrived, they heard more gunshots. It was like the breaking of glass and the crying of children all wrapped into one.

He’d called his wife almost three times since he got here, but it seemed like the phone lines were down, which didn’t help at all. He looked around for a moment, realising that calling her was no use, because she was here already. He watched as the SUVs rolled up and he ran towards them.

Had she sent him to his death, for the sake of not taking a sick day?

“Nothin’, they said on the radio that there’s at least 30 dead, if not more and a lot of the kids are still unaccounted for. Two shooters, at least.” He was talking quickly as if they didn’t have a moment to lose and really, they didn’t. “He didn’t...he hasn’t come out yet....”

The words hit her like a wall of bricks and her knees went weak beneath her, leaving her panting and clutching on to Will in a desperate fight to regain her footing.

Thirty deaths already, no word from Henry, and gunshots were still going off from within the building.

Will was never usually one for raising his voice, but as he pulled his wife backwards, all while pulling the gun from her grasp, he couldn’t help it. “NO!” He said again, as he managed to finally retired the gun from her, giving it to Hotch who was walking past.

“Listen to me! Listen to me, Jennifer!” He said, his arms wrapping around her tightly so he could make sure she didn’t try to run in the direction of the building. “They need to clear the building, but you and I both know...we can’t go inside.” He didn’t want to follow protocol, especially when their son was inside with gunmen shooting bullets everywhere, but he knew at least one of them had to follow it.

Will could hear the chaos outside from within his office. It wasn’t hard to hear, really, because the glass between his office and the PD floor was paper thin. The detective stood from his desk and made his way to the door, opening it and he peaked out. His whole department were crowding around the tv, engrossed in the news reel that had obviously just started. Then the phones started to continuously, one after the other. Will turned to the detective who had just gotten off the phone.

“What’s goin’ on?” He asked, and even after living in Washington D.C. for several years, his voice still had that baritone southern charm to it. When the other officer started to speak, Will grabbed his phone and his coat from his office straight away. He usually didn’t go out on calls like this, but today, needs must. A school shooting nearby, with up to thirty dead and some children still accounted for, Will knew they needed all hands on deck. Fear of the unknown terrified Will, but it also gave him a boost of adrenaline, like his own personal brand of heroin. His mind wondered to his son who was at school after complaining he had a sore stomach this morning, but then he knew he had to be professional.

He pulled up to the school almost moments later, watching the scene unfold in front of him. His officers scattering themselves across the school grounds, leading teachers and children to safety. Others, talking to parents and members of the public. It felt like time was frozen, and in the immediate moments after he’d arrived, they heard more gunshots. It was like the breaking of glass and the crying of children all wrapped into one.

He’d called his wife almost three times since he got here, but it seemed like the phone lines were down, which didn’t help at all. He looked around for a moment, realising that calling her was no use, because she was here already. He watched as the SUVs rolled up and he ran towards them.

Had she sent him to his death, for the sake of not taking a sick day?

“Nothin’, they said on the radio that there’s at least 30 dead, if not more and a lot of the kids are still unaccounted for. Two shooters, at least.” He was talking quickly as if they didn’t have a moment to lose and really, they didn’t. “He didn’t...he hasn’t come out yet....”